After waking up with a bear on top of my truck, I had forty-eight hours without a bear visit. On Saturday, however, he showed up at my back door at six in the morning. I had somewhat oafishly booby-trapped the back door, putting a cooler full of water in the doorway leading into the extension, so I could hear him splashing his way in. Which he did, putting his paws in the water without moving the cooler at all. I heard the splashing and immediately woke up. I roared from my sleeping loft, grabbed my axe, and headed downstairs. I heard him scrambling to get away. He must have jumped over the cooler because he didn’t splash on his way out. There were two wet paw prints on my back screen door. Since then I’ve gone another thirty hours without seeing him.
I went down to town hall on Thursday to mention that I had a “bear problem.” I was told that there was no way they would move the bear; our town clerk, Joy, said, “When there are problem bears from other places in the state, this is where they’re moved to – to the town of Denning.” I was also told that I should not shoot the bear; it was out of season and illegal. She gave me the phone number of a park ranger to discuss the situation, and she said that there was a bear biologist assigned to the area, and in case of last resort he would come and shoot the bear. Right now I’m willing to let things be. The bear wants into my cabin; this is not good; but he is still afraid of me and so for now the situation is not unbearable.
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